Rise of the Retics

by T J Lantz

  Long ago, on a beautiful island far from Rosehaven called Florensis, there lived a small tribe of tiny little humans. Some were no taller than a baby centaur, and they were just as cute. These little humans were a peaceful, fun-loving people who enjoyed telling stories, playing games, and creating beautiful music. They forged no blades and trained no warriors. Instead, they were soldiers of song, wielding words as their weapons and harps as their shields. Yet one day, for reasons no retic may ever know, their songs stopped protecting them.

  One by one, huge red-skinned warriors rose from the black depths of the surrounding sea and began to lay waste to the Florensians’ village. They held mercy for neither woman nor child, slaying each with unimagined cruelty. These bloodthirsty soldiers of the Underworld were led by a powerful demon sorcerer, a legendary master of the elements, able to bend the very essence of the natural world to his every whim. His name was Savnock, and his bloodlust knew no bounds. Not one to miss out on the pain and suffering of his enemies, Savnock was always sure to lead his warriors into battle from the front lines, paving the way with his own viciousness. That day Savnock and his army slew hundreds of unarmed Florensians—men, women, and children . . . it didn’t matter to the demons. If there were no Florensians near to murder, they turned their eyes to livestock or sometimes even each other.

  After the massacre was over the great sorcerer scoured the island, rounding up the few surviving little humans. His soldiers assumed he was going to enslave them, as was the custom in the Underworld to do with defeated opponents, but Savnock didn’t much care for human slaves as he found them very weak, and he already had plenty of demons that did his bidding willingly. Instead, he was far more intrigued by having new subjects to test his magic on. For three days he prepared his spell as the remaining Florensians sat on the beach awaiting their fate. Finally, with just a few words uttered from the demon’s tongue and a few quick gestures with his hands, the Florensians ceased to exist as the human creatures they had always been. Savnock had ripped their very consciousness out of their bodies and switched it with the closest living things he could find—the squirrels of the nearby forest. The demons bellowed in laughter as the bodies of the Florensians, now filled with the minds of panicked and terrified squirrels ran around in chaos.

  Most began to run to the trees, as scared squirrels are apt to do, only to find that human bodies are far less suited to climbing. As these helpless creatures fell one by one from the trees to their death, the demons cheered them on, enjoying every moment of the suffering Savnock had caused. Once all the human bodies had ceased functioning and Savnock was content with the display of power he showed in front of his underlings, the sorcerer decided he would grant “mercy” to the remaining Florensians and allow them to live out their days with their minds trapped in the bodies of rodents. Many people today argue that this was not mercy at all, but in fact cruel and sadistic torture.

  After the demons had departed, many of the Florensians gave up quickly, refusing to try to adapt. However, a few stubborn young squirrels refused to accept their fate. They used their keen intellect to learn to survive in the forest. They scavenged and stored food, learning survival tricks from their animal brothers and sisters and honing into the natural instincts of the rodent bodies they inherited. At first they hoped the spell would wear off, but soon they understood that their fate was permanent and tried to live out their lives as best they could. Some even began families of their own. Those creatures that chose this path were shocked when their children were born with the same human intelligence that they possessed. Realizing that they could still preserve their history for future generations, the remaining Florensians swore that they would do everything they could to survive long enough to one day enact justice upon the demons who cursed them in such a manner.

  These creatures were the founding members of the Acorn Guard, the same group that today protects Rosehaven’s Lord Protector himself.

  Much has changed about the Florensians in the thousands of years since the day of the curse. Nature helped their bodies grow with their intelligence, and it was not long before they had learned to walk on two feet, communicate verbally, and carry and use tools. The first tool they chose to master was the blade so that never again would another creature have the power to destroy them. From this story we must learn a simple lesson, Jaxon. No matter how difficult things seem, we must never give up in our daily struggle to combat the evils of the world. The Florensians didn’t, and that is why their people still survive.

  Jaxon understood why Saan always told him that story. She wanted him to understand why the Florensians had such a strong hatred toward him. Of all the different retic species, they treated him the worst. To them, he represented the destruction of their entire way of life.

  “This is absurd, Alastar!” Quicktrigger snapped, bringing Jaxon out of his thoughts. “He’s just a boy. Look at him, He’s scrawny, like a sick cat. Let his father and I handle it.” Jaxon wondered what pathetic little boy they were talking about. He looked around but saw no one else. He assumed he must have been in the other room. Jaxon noticed that the conversation had grabbed Rigby’s attention as well as he watched her deep brown eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two men.

  “It is our right under the ancient laws, Kirgo,” Bushytail responded calmly. “We only wish to see justice served in an appropriate way.”

  “Appropriate way? That’s unicorn droppings, Alastar, and you know it! It might be all sparkly on the outside but deep down everyone knows it’s still poop.[11] First of all, forget the fact that it was just two dragon-marks[12] worth of fruit the boy took. The more important thing is this—if anyone’s got the right, it’s Applebottom, and I don’t see her here.”

  “Her goods were the universal property of all the Forest Folk. Our community has shared the bounty of the orchards since long before either of us was even born. As such, the boy might as well have stolen food directly out of my mouth.” Captain Bushytail folded his fur covered arms, giving Jaxon an excellent view of the beautiful silver handled blade attached to his left hip. Jaxon knew that his right hip had an equally elaborate and deadly partner.

  “Still Alastar, he ain’t nothing but a boy. It wouldn’t be honorable for you to fight him. Surely there must be a reasonable way we can resolve this dispute.”

  Jaxon jumped up. The words “fight” and “Alastar Bushytail” did not sit well with him.

  “Um, is that something about a fight I hear?” Jaxon squeaked out quickly, the panic in his voice becoming apparent despite his attempts to appear calm. “What’s all this about a fight? Who’s fighting who? Should anyone really be fighting? Is that really the kind of thing we want to teach the children?”

  Both the older men completely ignored the agitated prisoner, each waiting for the other to give in to the opposing argument. Jaxon felt a little bit of shame at his fear, he was a powerful demon after all, but fighting Captain Alastar Bushytail was suicide! He was the most skilled duelist in all of Rosehaven and had an attitude to match. Legend had it that Bushytail had once killed two unicorns for talking during a play he was watching. And to make it worse, he did it with their own horns with one hand tied behind his back![13] Fighting him wasn’t brave at all, it was complete stupidity!

  “For once, you are right, Sheriff. It would not be fair of me to be the champion of the Forest Folk in this case. We have chosen another, far more suitable, opponent for the half-blood. She will be more than happy to teach him the manners that Hoofstomp couldn’t instill.”

  “She, you say?” asked Quicktrigger inquisitively. “Who is this warrior of whom you speak?” Quicktrigger cocked his head slightly. Jaxon figured the sheriff was doing the same thing he was—trying to come up with a list of female warriors from the Forest Folk. The Acorn Guard had always been all male, and the dryads wouldn’t know a sword if it slapped them in the face. Perhaps one of the faeries? Jaxon wracked his brain trying to remember the different groups that belonged to the Forest Folk, a confede
ration of species that lived in the most wooded parts of Rosehaven and shared all that belonged to them equally.

  “Samantha will be the one representing us,” Bushytail replied after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Your daughter?” the sheriff exclaimed in an excited voice. “She’s nothing but a child herself!”

  Jaxon nearly fell over laughing when he heard the captain’s words. He would be fighting a girl! This was some of the best luck Jaxon had ever had. Not only did he get to avoid becoming a demon kebab on the captain’s blade, but now he had the chance to entertain the crowd a little bit by beating on a little rodent girl! He did his best to stifle his amusement so as not to make the captain change his mind and fight him personally.

  “I’m well aware, Sheriff. However, she is eager to avenge this crime against her people. We are hoping that a child can succeed at teaching this boy a lesson. It was obviously a task far beyond the capabilities of his adult caretakers.”

  Jaxon cringed as the humorous images of a crying little squirrel-kin girl faded from his mind. If it was one thing he hated, it was when someone else insulted his foster parents. They may have been smelly goats, but that didn’t mean anyone had the right to say unkind things about them.

  As if on cue the door swung open and another, much larger, retic walked into the room. Jaxon didn’t need to look—he knew that scent anywhere. It was a cross between wet dog and three week old tuna filet. His foster father was here to pick him up, and Jaxon was pretty sure that he was not going to like what he was about to hear.

  Chapter 5

  Breakfast In Bed

  Tyranna

  Near the Baltic Sea

  October 26, 1503

  Tyranna groggily peeled open her eyes as a few stray beams of light poured through the tree canopy above her head. She had been sleeping in the sitting position with her back against a thick tree, wrapped tightly in her warm fur cloak. As she stretched her legs out, she wondered how so many muscles could hurt at one time.

  What happened to me, she pondered, as she tried desperately to make sense of the memories in her head. Everything felt so foggy, like a dark mist had decided to invade through her ear canal and lay siege to her brain.

  As Tyranna took in her surroundings, she noticed that even though a campfire roared in front of her, the ground remained damp and muddy and her cloak had changed from soft white fur to a matted brown mess. The rain had stopped, but the sun hadn’t come out long enough to repair the damage.

  She also noticed that she felt very sick to her stomach, a combination of hunger pangs and merciless exhaustion. The feeling only got worse as the events of last night poured back into her thoughts with far greater lucidity.

  Those men, they killed Brother Tychus and so many others. And they were going to kill me! The flood of vivid memories sent a shiver down her spine—the soldiers, the man in the white armor, her teacher’s broken body . . . the blood. She could almost feel its warmth and stickiness on her feet as she thought about it. She shivered as the feeling came back to her.

  Then the most vivid image of all appeared—the tree-monster that saved her life. A humongous mound of evil warped and tangled into a living, breathing[14] creature. What could it have wanted from her?

  And of course, there was the memory of the change. One second she had been herself, the next she was something else. Small, frightened, feral . . . barely aware of who she was.

  It had to be a dream, but why am I sleeping outside?” Her mind struggled to bring sense to the confusion, but the more she thought about it the less clear she felt.

  “Oh good, you have awoken.” The deep voice cut through the sounds of chirping birds and grabbed Tyranna’s attention away from her thoughts.

  His body was huge, twice as tall as any man she had ever seen and maybe three times as thick. His arms and legs were both made up of a series of interlocking branches protruding from his massive trunk. His fingers were long and pointy like mini spears, each sharp enough to tear straight through her body and pierce her heart at any moment. She tried to scream but found her voice had left her. She was helpless against the mighty monster that stood before her.

  “I did what I could to get you some breakfast,” said the tree creature as he unclenched his gargantuan hands, revealing that each was filled with a variety of fruits and berries. “There wasn’t much out there. It seems that this forest has been really picked over. Food must be scarcer in this region than we had heard.”

  Tyranna just stared up at him, unsure why he would give her breakfast before killing her, or for that matter why he would have bothered to save her life in the first place. Perhaps he means to eat me and this is to make me taste delicious.

  She had often heard travelers tell tales of monsters who ate children that ventured out after dark. She had believed that they were just stories to teach the children to stay inside at night, but now she realized they were telling her the truth the entire time. This one must have only saved her from those horrible men so he could eat her himself.

  Convinced of her hasty explanation, she refused to take a bite of his breakfast medley. There was no way she was going to help a monster make her tastier! If she was going to die this morning, then she was going to go tough, stringy, and flavorless. It was, quite literally, the least she could do to defend herself, yet in her current state of mind it seemed like the best idea.

  Seeing that she wouldn’t accept the food from his hand, the monster placed it gently on the floor next to her. His movements were slow and deliberate, like someone would use to approach a scared animal.

  “Unfortunately, Tyranna, we don’t have much time to rest. It is quite likely that the men who were after you were able to make up ground while you slept. They may already have passed us if they took the port road. I stuck to the forest to make tracking us a bit harder, but that takes more time, and even then I cannot guarantee that they have not caught our scent. Are you well enough to travel now?”

  He knows my name. How would a monster know who I am? Tyranna’s curiosity fought hard to overcome her fear, and after a few moments she was able to wrestle out her question. “H . . . Ho . . . How do you know my name?” She feared the answer but not nearly as much as she feared not knowing.

  “An excellent question, and one that I believe you deserve an answer to. I suppose this whole situation must be a bit unsettling for you. You see, little one, I know all about you—your name, where you live, what you can do. We have been following you for months. We thought we had more time before the bishop found you, but alas, we were mistaken, and for that I offer my deepest apologies. Luckily, that mistake did not prove fatal, and now I am here. It is my duty as your assigned guardian to protect you. I assure you, my lady, I am very, very good at my job.”

  The tree spoke with such sincerity and kindness in his voice that Tyranna could not help but feel more at ease. No, she thought, “that’s exactly what he wants. He’s trying to tempt me; just like in the stories I’ve been taught.” Brother Tychus had indeed taught her very well. She knew how evil creatures worked, how they manipulated your thoughts and feelings and tricked you into giving them your immortal soul . . . or worse. She was too smart for that. She wasn’t about to let him trick her, no matter how nice he seemed. For all she knew he had set up her kidnapping in order to appear like her hero simply to gain her trust. Perhaps it truly was her soul he wanted and not just her bones for a soup. She knew she would have to play this smart if she was going to get out alive.

  “Wh . . . wh . . . who are you?” she finally managed to get out while trying to maintain her composure.

  “Ah, of course. Introductions are certainly in order before we go on. My name is Sir Reginald Branchworth III, first Roune-Knight of the nation of Rosehaven. Most creatures simply call me Sir Reginald or Branchworth the Patient, seeing as both monikers take much less time to say than my full title. I had a niece once—a beautiful little sproutling who was barely older than you are now. She called me “Branchy.” That nickname has
stuck for many as well. I like it, but I understand if it’s a bit too informal for you.”

  Reginald smiled down at Tyranna to show he was trying to lighten her mood. It didn’t work, as all she could think about were how quickly his teeth could impale her lithe little body.

  “I have been sent to escort you to a ship anchored just outside the harbor called the Wild Rover. It will then take you on to Rosehaven, a place where those men will never be able to find you again. You have my word as a knight on that.”

  Tyranna listened to each word he said carefully, making sure she would not be tricked by this creature of evil that stood before her. Though she had to admit, she knew of no stories in which monsters pretended to be noble knights who rescued damsels in distress. Not that she was really “damsel” material, but maybe one day if she truly put her mind to it.

  “How do I know you’re here to help me?” she asked skeptically. “And who were those men?”

  She knew by now she should have tried to run and scream for help long ago, but her curiosity had started to impress itself upon her actions.

  “I guess that would be difficult to prove,” Reginald replied with a slight nod. “My deepest apologies if my appearance has unsettled you. Usually one of the more human-looking knights would have been assigned a case such as this. However, with the bishop having found out about you so quickly, time was of the essence and I was the nearest. It was he who sent the men to apprehend you. They are from an organization called the Coalition of the Burning Heart. They are a group of highly trained mercenaries and zealots entrusted with the eradication of all intelligent nonhuman species. If you will just trust me enough to continue walking toward the docks, I promise I will explain as much as I can on the way. You must realize that if I wanted to harm you, I certainly could have done it already.” Somehow Reginald managed to look sincere despite smiling with teeth that could impale a horse.